


Broken Like Me

by LixaLizz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Draco had a crush on Hermione, Harry Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Suicidal Draco Malfoy, Suicidal Thoughts, fluff towards the end, he likes Harry now, past Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LixaLizz/pseuds/LixaLizz
Summary: Draco Malfoy has woken up every night to go to the astronomy tower, see the stars and go dark. Forget everything that has ever happened. He wants to forget his past--and his present. He wants to stop all the hexing that he knew that would happen. He wants to stop the taunting and the traumatizing words. He wants his old life back. Where everything was easier. He wants his mother to be happy again. He wants Pansy to be his friend. He wants something no one could offer. He wants the world to stop. He wants to try and pay the price for all the things he wants. But, of course, he can't have everything he wants.He gets mad when the Golden Boy can.





	1. Gone Without You

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by the song Broken by lovelytheband - not sure if I should change it, so do tell me any suggestions you think I'd like to hear :)  
> also this is my first Drarry drabble I've decided to upload onto ao3!  
> (some characters also survived the war; only some alterations were made to fit the story! no major changes happened!)  
> All constructive criticism is welcome, and hope ya' like angst

Loud, heavy footsteps tried to keep up with the form in front of it. A silver eyed boy took the back of his hand to wipe away the streaming tears from his cheeks, and his other to wipe his now sweaty hands on the side of his leg. His voice was whiny, and not very much confident. At least not anymore. The person in front of him was a rather frustrated girl, trying to get away from him. Her angry eyes burned holes when she looked at the ground, stomping down the corridor. 

"Pans-Pansy! Please, wait-"

With a loud groan, Pansy stopped stomping down the hall. She was trying to get _away_ from Draco Malfoy, but it looked like she didn't succeed. She sharply turned to look at him, and possibly scream at him more.

"Stop, Draco!" she yelled, frustration in her voice. Her loud piercing voice sent a his heart into overdrive; his heart started thumping like crazy. It was the sort of affect that happened when your best friend started yelling--no,  _screaming_ \--at you. He seemed very small and insignificant when it happened. But it wasn't like it happened very often. He decided a very long time ago that he would much rather be the one yelling. But it didn't matter now. Like a fork scraping against a platter, Pansy continued to scream.

Her shrilly voice echoed in the hallway they were currently in. "Stop trying to be my friend!" she spat out, like venom foaming from her mouth. "Stop trying already! You've ruined everything! There's no point in it anymore! Get away from me! And don't-just don't talk to me!" 

She quickly grabbed Draco's wrist, as if she was trying to prove her point. She wiped away rolling tear from her eye, hoping that Draco didn't see. Her sleeve was practically faded from the amount of times she'd done that. His school robes was effortlessly uncovered from his forearm. Her thin fingers brushed over his skin and Draco flinched. He weakly gasped out of surprise. He didn't like where this was going.

"Pan-Pansy, please don't-" he tried to say.

He got cut off by Pansy, _again._

"This," she shouted, "is why you need to stop trying already!" In a more crushed voice, she quietly added, "please." Draco didn't hear it over the loud beating of his heart.

"Pans-"

She let go of his arm. She sharply took a in a breath, as if she wanted to say something. Here eyes were narrowed at him, and if her tone of voice didn't clearly state that she was mad, he mouth sure did. Draco didn't want to believe it, though. He didn't want to believe his best friend for _years_ was mad at him for such a silly thing.

She started to say some  _fuck you's_  and some  _fuck off's_  and more _fuck_ related words to Draco in a very  _Pansy_ way. After a brief second of her just bashing Malfoy with those hurtful words, for whatever reason, she kept opening up her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but even if she did, she didn't say it out loud. She closed her eyes for a time, as if contemplating on what to do.

She took one last heartbreaking glance at Draco, and then continued to stomp down the hall to wherever. She didn't say anything to Draco, and only giving him a soft glare--if that was a thing.

Her shadow was no longer seen on the walls and the torches' lights just flickered on his face, licking warmth into his bones. But it wasn't like he was already warm. In fact, he felt hot. His cheeks were red, maybe from the cold, or maybe from something else.

He started to feel scared.

No--scared wasn't the word. It was more like nervousness. Maybe the word tension or stress--but whatever it was he started to feel all of those emotions stack up against one another, drawing him into a deep hole into his mind. 

_He couldn't do this anymore._

He stood there, not knowing what to do. His immediate thoughts were all cries of sadness. How could he survive now? How could he live without Pansy? Pansy Parkinson, the only person he considered a friend, and the only person who didn't entirely hate his guts. Well,  _did_ anyway. And that was the part that just _fucking hurt_. His best friend was now gone, hating him. _Ignoring_ him. How could he survive eighth year without his rock to the wind? But he said to himself that he wouldn't mind. He just couldn't afford it. He couldn't afford to dwell on this.

He wanted to go back to the manor, but that place was already... too tainted with what had happened there. He had thoughts inside his head because of it. He couldn't go there anymore, all of it would be too triggering. His mother didn't necessarily  _care,_ and that had Draco a little stumped, too.

_He couldn't do this anymore._

He stood there, for quite some time thoughts tense in his head, until he heard laughing coming from behind him. He turned around just in time to see a bunch of seemingly haughty seventh years walking down the walkway. They didn't seem to notice him until one of them glanced his eyes curiously to the wall he was by. A scruffy looking boy started to tap his friends' shoulders to point his finger and say with his eyes, _Lo_ _ok!_  All of them stopped talking. Self consciously, Draco pulled down his sleeve. 

_He couldn't do this anymore._

He didn't know why he didn't just walk out of the corridor. His feet felt like led and his brain was too murky of thoughts that he didn't even want to think about.

The tallest one broke the silence, coming forward to size up to Draco. He was clearly taller than Draco. His lips smacked together before he spoke.

"Look who it is, boys," his voice croaked. He had squarish looking glasses tilted on the tip of his nose--like he was trying to copy--ugh, dare he say it--Harry Potter. He looked like he was a spoiled brat, as Draco should know, as he _was_ once one. He tried to put a hand on Draco's shoulder--probably to look more "authoritative" or in charge--but failed when he flinched away. Draco shoved his hand away, too. The other boys behind them, just looked smug.

The taller boy's eyes narrowed before finishing up his thought. "It's the boy who was a  _damn traitor!_ "

Laughing hysterically, he shoved out his arm to grasp Draco, this time, in a firmer grip. He wasn't so lucky that time, and the tall boy's nails dig into his arm possessively. Draco started to panic. _What was he suppose to do now?_ _Run off like a coward?_  

He though bitterly, _But it's not like people don't view me as one either._

"Let go of m-me," Draco said in defense, voice quivering from the fight he just had with Pansy. _Obviously._

The other boys laughed. Draco pressed his lips into a firm line, creasing his forehead into a pile of wrinkles. Seriously, what was he suppose to do now? He was trapped in the middle of the hall, with a bunch of trained students that hated him.

_Just great._

"No," the other boy answered. The silver eyed boy clenched his jaw, praying his ego wouldn't get in the way. He willed himself to be quiet for a minute to think. He could probably just run, there was no shame in that anymore. But what would he do if they caught up to him? He was clearly outnumbered, and all of them looked quite athletic, so dashing away wasn't a solution. 

The tall boy had crooked teeth, and that's what Draco noticed first when the boy came closer to his face.

Seeing that Draco wasn't going to react to him saying no, he added some _very_ tempting words after them. "So what're you gunna do 'bout it?"

Draco didn't really want to do anything. He didn't want to start anything bad. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be un-friends with Pansy. Hell, he didn't want to be there with his sad arse, that was silently begging for an easy, fast escape. He stayed quiet, letting the sound of breathing fill the hall. He didn't feel like fighting to these boys, much less talking to them.

"Well?" the boy asked, straightening up his back. He had pale skin, and if wasn't for his school robes, Draco probably could've mistaken him for a vampire.

 _"Well?"_   he asked again, with a snarky tone. He was clearly a confident one. After a minute or two, one of his goonies laughed.

"Look, he doesn't speak anymore!" 

Draco tried to stay calm. All his nerves were jumping and the only way he could think of escaping was to run. But he just  _couldn't_ so he bit his tongue and racked his brain harder. He knew he couldn't pick a fight with these students, as his face would probably be purple for months and his reputation--even though he probably didn't have a good one, not like it was first year--would be good as ruined. And it wasn't like he could redeem it easily, not in a million lifetimes, years, or spells could help him do that.  _Clever Slytherin,_ he said to himself. _W_ _hat would Pansy do?_

The same goon smiled, with the smug look on his face like he won the lottery ticket, but, oh wait! He stole the ticket, so it didn't even matter if he won. He was cheater, someone who thought they were so smart, but had only took things that weren't theirs.

"Look boys! Potter isn't saving anyone, today, is he?" He curved his fingers into an eyeglass shape, and whimpered. "Look, it's Malfoy," he said, voice an octave higher, trying to imitate Potter, but clearly failed. "He needs to be rescued again!" The boys burst into a fit of laughter, uncomfortably slapping Draco on his back. Haphazardly, he peeled off the hands that was on his arm.

After a minute of trying to catch their breath, the crooked toothed boy spoke. "Well, lookie here Malfoy," he said, poison laced in his voice, "my name is Quinn, and you  _will_ be my, uh, little helper of today. Yeah?"

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn't like this  _Quinn_ boy. He was really starting to get irritating. He didn't like how his face looked sour every time he spoke, his hands moving around his face with wild and too fast hand gestures. Draco just didn't like him. He couldn't like him, not after the stunt he pulled and Pansy got mad at him for doing that. But he  _especially_ hated Quinn when took his other hand to slap him with it.

It was surprising at first, because _who the hell slaps a Malfoy except Granger?_ A stinging sensation washed over Draco's face. Quinn also looked a bit... surprised that he even let him touch his arm, much less slap him on the cheek. No doubt that his left side of his face was a pinkish color, or maybe a red depending on how you looked at it.

"Yeah?" Quinn tried to say calmly, but had the sound of more forcefulness with his words.

Draco remained still, trying to get a hold of his wand in his robe. He didn't want to look suspicious. And, yeah, this was the _great_ plan he had come up with with the thirty seconds he had. He tried to shift against the boy, as he was nearly touching both his arms. The boy was lanky, and a red head--obviously not a Weasley, though. He had a mole right above his lip, and it was very noticeable.

Quinn had a smirk on his lips as if he was satisfied with Malfoy already. _Done toying with him._ But Draco knew better. He'd seen the look before. Draco was quiet, hoping his eyes didn't look too red or bloodshot from crying earlier. Impatient for an answer, Quinn decided to clasp his hands around the collar of his front shirt. Draco cringed as he felt Quinn's sweaty, clammy hands grip around the fabric. His sweat was practically dampening the material into a new load of laundry. It was disgusting.

"You say the wrong thing now," he whispered in his ear, his face somehow closer to his cheekbones, "and you will see what happens now. Must know I am an impatient one." His voice was one of a little five year old boy--or possibly a thirteen year old who was impossibly much too immature--who thought they were entitled to everything. Draco could see the arrogance in his eyes, the way he looked over at his "friends". He thought he was a hotshot. And, yes, entitled to  _everything because they just were, okay?_

Draco murmured a curse before Quinn quickly shoved him back into the wall, until he slammed tight into it. It was a stone wall, and that just  _freaking_ hurt. He felt something coil around his leg, and Draco panicked for a second. The only thing that he could think of that would coil and slide in a spiral against something was a snake. He didn't like snakes. Not anymore.

He looked down and sighed a breath when he saw nothing. Though, it was weird to feel something and see nothing there. Think of it as if you felt something brush your leg at night lurking there as you slept, but knowing nothing's there.  _Seeing_ nothing there, but still feel something brush the skin between your ankle and knee.

Quinn had wiggled his leg into the space between Draco's and the wall. It was truly strange. Because, why the hell would he do that if he didn't need to? And he put one of his knees around Draco's to keep him in place, which was plain unnecessary.

Draco suspected it was a plan for him to be riled up.The boys behind him howled with laughter after seeing Draco's eyes widen with surprise, but only for a _second_. Nothing more and nothing less. He could still feel Quinn's sweat soil his clothes, and all he could think was _ew._ "Well,  _Quinn_ ," he said, voice hoarse, "do let go and maybe I won't hex you." 

"So, he does talk."

His hot hands clasped tighter around his shirt--and not in a good, or pleasing way.

It was times like these that he thought that he should've just jumped that faithful day off of the-

Draco tried to say something, but his voice simply didn't work. He couldn't breath, but at the same time he could. His hands weakly fought at his arms. During the war, he clearly got weaker, even though he tried so much to regain his strength. His arms clung to the taller boy, as if he didn't want to engage in anything. He probably looked pathetic like that; his face pink and red with his red eyes, too, and seemingly thin arms around some other boy he didn't even know.

_He couldn't do this anymore._

After moment of Draco, trying to figure out what to do, and the boy's before him mocking him and his-- well, they were talking about him aimlessly. He could also just  _feel_ some type of magic tingle against his skin. After so many years being surrounded by it, this was the feeling he didn't like. It was the type of magic that made you go mad out of your mind, little by little, but you don't know how or why. 

He saw someone whirl by. He couldn't describe them, not with his eyes partially closed from his panic attack. His voice was still ragged, as he remembers. This new person had pointed their wand at Quinn, probably to cause him to drop Draco. 

Draco still felt like he deserved this, even though Draco got knocked out instead. A stinging hex appearing up his neck.


	2. Lonely like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm.
> 
> Remembering the good old days (which weren't so old) made Draco sad to think about. There was no doubt about it. But you know, the infirmary had a way to turn it around. Sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, skip this note if you want, but I want to say I hope all of you had a happy holidays! I'm really happy how this chapter turned out--even if there're some mistakes. But no matter! If I don't update this before new years, then I'd like to say I hope all of you have a great one.
> 
> I will go back and edit this chapter when I have time, so please mind those notifications (if you have them on)
> 
> okay, all done with my chattering. enjoy the chapter!

A cold shiver ran down Draco's back. And a throbbing pain in the head. And an aching neck.

God, he hated the feeling, even though he'd only been awaken for a few seconds now. He opened an eye, trying to assess the damage. He needed to get up, before he was hit again. He couldn't see his hand; his eyes were straining to adjust to the darkness. And, oh! He just realized it was dark, where shadows were the only thing he could see. And what time was it? Everything seemed to be inky and black.

He tried to feel around for his pocket, because he remembered inside of it he'd stashed some-

He didn't register it at first, but his robes weren't on him. He wasn't wearing his school clothes anymore. He was wearing a plain shirt and dark pants covered his lower half warmly.

He was situated in a more comfy area--somewhere that didn't have tiled floors. He came to the realization that he wasn't on the floor anymore. He reached around himself blindly, trying to figure out where he was. His eyes finally fixed his focus on the ground he was on.

_Oh._

It took him a few moments to fully register it, but it wasn't the floor that he was on, unlike what he thought. He sat upright on the bed he was on. He started to think. It couldn't have been the new eighth year tower, where he shared a room with some lousy roommates. So, there was only one possible choice left, one that he didn't exactly like.

He groaned when he swung his legs over the bed, the sore part of his calf throbbing. He wasn't even sure why they were trembling. The clothes he was wearing was interesting for the place he was in. He hadn't been informed of their new... policy of the clothing provided.

He ran his fingers over a bumpy part of his neck. That part still hurt like hell, but it wasn't a sharp, seething pain in his spine, like it was fresh. Instead, it was a dull stabbing--if you can imagine that. But to paint it simply in your head, it was like a stone pebble dropping into a lake of glue; slow, and agonizing, but tolerable. Though, every once in while, a dull, smooth surfaced rock would puncture the surface. It was otherwise soothing, but could be piercing to the top.

Other times, people would spontaneously throw jagged rocks, and pointed sticks into the water. That was when he could cry himself a lake of tears, just to show people visually what it felt like. What it felt like being hexed at nearly everyday. No, not nearly--it  _was_ everyday. He just learned over time how to dodge amateur aims.

It didn't hurt like when he first got the hex, and he supposed it was better than before. 

He tried looking around, without the goal of getting whiplash, and spotted a wooden cabinet and other thin sized beds. They had no corner posts, so he had to reason that he was in the Hospital Wing. Perhaps someone did come and save him--he hoped it wasn't Harry. He probably wouldn't live another day, even _if_ he got... erm, got  _help_ attacking his  _attackers._ Yes. That happened. He only got _help_. He pondered a moment, trying to think about what to do. After a cool breeze rushed by him ominously, he thought that he should get some rest.

Talk about what happened and who sav-

Who  _helped_ him. Yes, yes. Talk to Madam Pomfrey about if he was cleared to go. He thought about it longer. He supposed he could wait until morning for all those questions swimming in his head. Yes, he needed answers. But right about now, his pounding head needed rest. And, oh boy, the thought of sleep made his eyes feel like led. He smiled weakly at himself. Yes. Sleep would do him good.

* * *

  _Blaise's face was directly in front of him. A huff of warm breaths tickled his cheek._

_"What, Blaise?"_

_"Nothing. Can't I just admire you? You're so pretty."_

_Draco put his quill down to stare at Blaise. His hand mimicked his pose. His palm of his hand rested on the side of his cheek, as if he were day dreaming something wonderful._

_"Y_ _ou really are a..."_

_"A what, Blaise? What am I really?"_

_"You really are a beauty."_

_Draco processed this for a second. Flushing, he lightly shoved his arm. "You really are a beauty," he murmured, trying to mock Blaise's voice. Blaise rolled his eyes._

_"_ _Don't go all 'I am_ not _cute' on me now, mister. You were just smiling at yourself in the mirror because some bloke at the muggle town complimented it," he said back, reaching his hand forward to tuck a little stray strand of hair behind Draco's ear. Flushing even harder now, Draco slowly pushed Blaise's hand away. He picked up his quill back up, and dipped the tip into some ink._

_"Please don't. You're distracting me and I've got this potion's essay to finish."_

_"You let me last time."_

_"As I recall, this is the_ same  _essay that is due. I need to get this done before we go to Hogsmeade." Blaise made a face at him. With a sigh, Draco added on too slowly, just for Blaise's pleasure,_ _"Or wherever you want to take me."_

 _Letting out a huff of frustration, Blaise stood up, pushing away his paper. Even though he did want to go, he couldn't wait for him to be done. They haven't gone out together to Hogsmeade just for fun in_  ages.

"Fine," _he breathed out. "While you do that, I'm going to find an interesting book to read." He didn't wait for Draco to respond, and swiftly walked away behind some book shelves, so Draco couldn't see him. He sounded a bit frustrated, an emotion that didn't look well on him. He supposed that he wasn't actually--it took a lot more than a simple, "No." Perhaps, simply he was just annoyed. He always enjoyed getting what he wanted, and, well, at least Draco promised him a_ yes _l_ _ater. If that made any sense._

_A little relieved but lonely, he picked up his quill again and started to finish his sentence. And, yeah, Draco did want to go out, but he couldn't get any concerning grades below than what was expected of him, so he just had to finish up that essay. He was brainstorming in silence. Writing tranquilly in his own, quiet, peaceful thoughts. Until someone had to ruin it for him._

_There was a sudden knocking on his table, after quite some time--Draco just got four more inches off his to-do list--and Draco thought that was Blaise's signal that he was ready to leave. Startled, it was actually Seamus Finnigan, which made Draco quickly look back down at his parchment. He bit his tongue to cage in an insult, something he'd been waiting to do all year, even though he couldn't. He couldn't risk it._

_"_ _What do you need, Finnigan?" he asked, voice snappy. He knew he sounded rude, but Finnigan was seriously beginning to look a lot better with an ax up his head in Draco's mind. Finnigan gave an airy laugh._

_"Oh, shut it, Malfoy. We just need an extra chair."_

_Draco rolled his eyes dramatically, and just pursed his lips into a line. Couldn't they just like, I don't know, get another chair from another table? Those Gryffindors were all so annoying._ _Seamus coughed, letting out an amused noise. "Oh, so you don't talk, anymore?"_

 _Draco's eye twitched in irritation. He set his quill down slowly, trying to keep his voice down. He didn't exactly know why he was annoyed._ Irritated _. Why did he just let him on his nerves? It would really be easier if he just plain ignored him. It wasn't like they didn't do that to him either._

_"Oh, just take it already, Finnigan!" he shouted, but not loud enough the rest of the library could hear. That was the part that took the most self control."You never seemed to ask before, so I don't know why you're even asking now." He started to gather up his things neatly away in some type of wizard folder._

_Seamus smirked, pleased to see the reaction out of him. He graciously grasped the closest chair in his arm's length, and pulled it to the next table over. Where he sat. Where_ Harry  _sat._

 _Draco was starring right at him--he didn't even realize it--where Harry stared back with blank looking eyes.  He tried hard not to stare. His face didn't seem to show any emotion, and he didn't move his eyes off of Draco. He tried to suppress his surprise. His self control was high enough that he could pry his gaze off of him, to look down at his paper instead. But still, he felt Harry's eyes on him. He tried to ignore it._ The Golden One's stare. 

 _But how could he? After all those times Draco wanted to gently stroke that raven black hair and stare into those beautiful eyes?_ No,  _he would_ not _be doing that._

_He couldn't even look at him in a normal conversation without slightly flushing._

_Still, he couldn't let go of that feeling of his eyes, burning a hole in his head. He quickly stuffed his materials into his bag--he didn't necessarily care if it was messy, he just wanted to get out of there. He moved the bag onto the chair next to him, off of the floor. He was standing up now, crushing some of his new parchment at the bottom of the bag._

_He couldn't focus anymore. Seamus's voice and--who was that? Was that the Thomas boy? And the Weasle--he wasn't surprised at that one. Him and Potter were best mates, and so that meant they were practically joined at the hip. And if Potter was there,_ and  _Weasle, in the library? That only meant the other one was there. Granger would obviously be the only one who wanted to be there, voluntarily._

_Sure enough, her chirpy voice overpowered the rest of the group._

_"Shush, before we get in trouble." She scanned her eyes around the table. "C'mon Ron, that book you wanted to use for Charlie is up on the top shelf. Could you help me reach it?"_

_"Really, 'mione? You should be able to get it-"_

"Ron,"  _she tried to say with more emphasis, "it's on the top of the shelf. I need help getting it."_

 _Ron scrunched up his nose. He wasn't mad at her for interrupting his very important talk with the other very, more important boys, about the very important discussion about that one very important Quidditch game. Rather, he was confused, because he was the only one who didn't seem to grow up after the years of hanging around Hermione_ _._

 _Seeing that he wasn't going to answer, let alone get up and help her, she added onto her sentence. "Let_ _me rephrase, Ronald. Would you like to come help me get that book you wanted?"_

_His obliviousness started to get annoying._

_"_ _Um, there's a stool right-" he tried to say, pointing to the little step stool by the left aisles._

_Harry squeezed Ron's arm, trying to give him the hint Hermione wanted him to get. She merely rolled her eyes, and looked like she wanted to just walk away. "Nevermind," she mumbled, going back to the shelf she was at. She even looked like she didn't want to be at the library right then, which seemed so incredibly impossible, because it was_ Hermione  _we're talking about. She practically lived in the books._

_Ron winced. He noted how frustrated Hermione looked. He pushed his chair back. "I guess I should go then," he mumbled to the other boys. He scratched his neck in shame. "I'll see if I can go help her." He tried to follow Hermione briskly._

_Draco refocused his attention. He managed to sling his bag across his shoulder. Pushing in his chair, he walked to the aisle where he last saw Blaise. It took a while--since he was distracted by the ever forming bubbles of laughter from behind him--to find Blaise browsing through a shelf of thin paged books. He awkwardly approached him and tilted his head so it was facing the exit. "I want to leave, if you don't mind," he muttered. He placed a hand on Blaise's shoulder, gently edging him to put his current book down._

_"Yeah, um, okay, Draco. Let's leave then."_

_And so with that being said, he grasped onto his wrist and led them both out of the room. It was a bit hard at first, because Draco didn't want to be seen by the group of rowdy Gryffindors, so the cautiously--more or less--tiptoed out._  

* * *

The soft light hitting his head made his eyes flutter open. The sunlight was a warm yellow, licking at his eyelashes. He consciously rubbed the back of his hand to the side of his neck. He internally cringed at the bumpy feeling; it felt like hives but... looser, and more open around his face and neck. He didn't know how to describe it, even after the countless times he got it.

He craned his neck around his environment, now that it was finally day time. To his right he could see the stone wall, and to his left he could see Madam Pomfrey.

"About time you woke up. You've got some visitors. I didn't, er, know if you'd like them to visit you, so I just instructed them to wait until you woke up."

Draco coughed, trying to fill in the deafening silence. Her voice always seemed to intimidate Draco. "Madam Pomfrey," he wheezed out, sitting upright. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" she answered. She was sitting on a chair next to him, as if she knew he'd wake up at that second. She patted her leg, brushing off a piece of lint. 

"Um," he started, rubbing his neck rougher now, "would you mind telling me what happened?"

His memories were rather blurry, or there was none at all. He positioned his legs so the were dangling off of the bed's edge, trying to get his day going. And god, why was he so hungry?

Madam Pomfrey eyed him rather cautiously. "I'm not sure, Mister Malfoy. I'm only here to heal you up. I didn't bring you in."

Draco tried not to groan, trying not to wonder what happened. And after that great, just refreshing sleep, he came to the conclusion that it was Pansy who saved him. It was a much better and much more logical conclusion than the first one he thought of. The one where--ugh--Harry saved him. Those words tasted sticky in his mouth--or rather his mind, where he only pondered, never out loud. And he didn't want to know why his first guess about the person saving him was the Savior himself. He cringed for even thinking about him.

"Do you, by any chance, know who came to my, uh, came to help me?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled weakly. "Mister Malfoy, I don't exactly remember. It was nearly midnight when someone barged in here with you. I believe they took off once I started checking vitals of you. How badly injured you were, was, er, to say the least, quite surprising. I would clear you out of my infirmary today, but I need to check on your injuries and vitals before you leave."

Draco tried to process this. His mind rather, to say it lightly, jumbled his nuts and bolts. "Uh, okay," he said, quietly and slowly. "Whatever you say." After another minute of silence Draco couldn't bare, bare just sitting in his own thoughts he couldn't share, he coughed again.

"Who were those visitors?" he tried to say. His voice was hoarse, and he didn't know why. And god, why was his throat so dry, too?

"Some Gryffindors, and their Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends. A fair mix of Slytherins showed up, too." Her voice was stiff, unlike her warm, natural sound. As if she was uncomfortable.

"Oh," he said, sounding surprised. Well, Madam Pomfrey supposed that he had a reason to. She was surprised, too, when they came over to see if he were alright. To even try and see him made her make a double take. She supposed she should make them wait and approve if they should be allowed in to see Draco. She didn't want to cause any trouble.

"Yes, yes," she said, only trying to polite. "I've fetched some house elves to get some breakfast for you, if you are feeling hungry, too."

Draco nodded at this. "Okay." 

* * *

_"I thought you said that we were going to study?"_

_Blaise laughed. He took his hand around Draco's to drag him around the shelves._

_"You should know better than to believe that."_

_Draco rolled his eyes. His clothes were damp from someone "accidentally" spilling water on it earlier that day. He desperately wanted to change, but Blaise had insisted on going to the library before it was curfew. He said that he could always change once they got back. "Besides, I need to get some books for potions. You know Slughorn isn't teaching all the materials we exactly need," he said in protest to Draco, before he agreed to come down here._

_He sulkily followed Blaise around the books, only to be abruptly stopped in front of the last shelving, the one by the back windowed wall. He gently took his wrist back, cautiously behind Blaise. "So then, Blaise, what are we here for again?" he said back, trying to keep back his cheeky tone._

_Blaise put a hand over his heart, sighing heavily. "To snog of course."_

_Draco let out a sound of bemusement. "What?" he asked, thrown off guard._

_Blaise smiled carefully. "I'm just joking, Draco," he said, laughing again. He frowned at the gesture Blaise made, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand._

_"I mean, unless you want to of course," Blaise added, still in a playful tone. Draco frowned even deeper. "My robe is still wet," he complained. "I have things to do."_

_Blaise stopped his laughing, at least--though still in his cheery mood--and muttered a half-assed apology. "Fine, fine. I just need help finding this one book. It's about herb plant based potions. Titled, 'Potion Recipes for Dummies: Plants Addition,' or something."_

_Draco pulled his lips into his usual 'stop talking to me' face--or rather, by the public: resting bitch face. But at least he wasn't frowning anymore._

_"Of course you need the one for dummies," he muttered, though he hoped Blaise knew he meant it as a joke._

_It was quiet few seconds, and Draco panicked and thought he screwed up with his horrible, unfiltered mouth. At least until Blaise coughed with amusement._

_"Yeah, I know, right. I have a potion genius right here!"_

_Draco smiled at himself._

_"And you know what else Draco?" Blaise asked, still looking at the books. He was halfway down the aisle already. He hoped he could get that book soon, he realized it was getting late. He still needed time to get his homework done._

_"_ _What?" Draco asked in response._

_"I can always have you do it for me!"_

_Draco stopped. "Real funny, Blaise," he lightheartedly said. Blaise grinned._

_Draco continued scanning his eyes on the book binders. Some were embroidered with gold, others with a simple black thread._ _"Well," Blaise said suddenly, grasping at a blue colored book in front of him, "it doesn't exactly matter now." He waved the book in his hands in Draco's face. "I got the book I need. Let's check it out."_

_Draco smiled. "Yeah, I still need to change out of this stupid, wet robe."_

* * *

Madam Pomfrey still didn't clear Draco just yet, so he had killed some time by reading some books by the infirmary entrance. It was some muggle book, but Draco was desperate trying to not fall asleep again. He didn't feel tired at all, but instead nothing. Nothing at all. And so that's why he was stuck reading the stupid muggle book--don't tell anyone, Draco now didn't think it was stupid--for most of the day. He felt a pang of emotion ring in his heart, after reading that stupid romance novel. I mean, those muggle authors really were something. 

It wasn't until after classes where someone came to see him. It surprised him, as he didn't expect anyone to come. And he had also desperately wished he could go to his own dorm now. The dull mattress was starting to hurt his back.

"Hey Draco," the soft voice said. She still had her bag slung around her shoulder. "I tried to visit you yesterday." Her voice was warm and gentle. 

"Hi Astoria," Draco said, a small smile plastered against his face. Her pale skin flushed. She didn't know he knew her name, especially when she was two years below him.

"I brought some chocolate frogs. I figured you might want some, as Madam Pomfrey doesn't instruct the elves to get the sweets. Sugar deprivation would be a horrible way to die in here." She smiled brightly, cautiously approaching him. She set a box down on the end of the bed. "Thanks," he muttered. He awkwardly gestured for her to sit. 

He really needed human contact again. Being cooped up in the room all alone was boring.

He hesitated before talking again. "How are your classes going?" he asked, hoping his awful small talk questions wasn't as awful as he thought. It was.

"Er, they're going great. Slughorn says he misses the potions' prodigy by the way." She cleared her throat, trying to swat away the awkwardness. "D'you know when you're going to be cleared?"

Draco paused his hands. The chocolate frogs were inside, making the box go from one spot to the next. They were 'jumping'.

"No, Madam Pomfrey didn't tell me anything yet."

"Oh."

Draco tried hard not to make any awkward movements, so he set the book he was earlier aside and sat upright. They didn't talk for a while; Draco awkwardly eating his chocolate and Astoria soaking up every detail. At least she naturally didn't make things weird. Draco actually had to try not to.

"So," Astoria managed to cough up--the silence mildly annoying her. "Do you need help with catching up? I'm sure after Madam Pomfrey let's you go, we could go study." She smiled, and for good measure, she quickly added, "If you want." Draco appreciated the gesture, but how far behind would he be? One day's worth of class barely equaled to a chapter of the textbooks--mostly likely than not. "Sure, Astoria," he said, trying to sound thankful.

She flipped her hair to the side. "Wonderful." Her bright blue eyes eyed Draco with amusement--though to his displeasure. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and he sensed that Astoria could feel that, too. She smiley sickly sweet and brushed her hand along the side of Draco's arm.

"Well, then, I'll come visit you after school, if you don't mind. I've got to get going."

He nodded, grabbing his leftover garbage into a fist. "That'd be great." He lifted his hand out in front of him, feeling a bit guilty. "Would you also mind throwing this out for me?" Astoria smiled--something that hurt her cheeks, but happiness came with a price.

"Sure, sure." She grabbed the trash that was in front of her, and brushed her hands along his for a beat too much. Draco coughed. "I'll see you then."

She pushed her chair back and picked up her bag that was on the ground. "Yeah." She walked towards the door and waved a silly goodbye gesture. Draco waved back. At least he knew one person didn't exactly hate him--even though it was kind of, though not necessarily, unpleasant to be by. Awkward was the word, but he supposed he would have to manage if he wanted to keep that... 

Friendship.

Yes. If he wanted to keep that small, delicate friendship. At least it was growing. 

* * *

_"You're horrible, you know that right?""_

_Blaise smiled. "C'mon," he drawled, smirking, "just say you love me."_

_Draco rolled his eyes at him. "I still need to do that stupid potions' essay." He pushed away the stray hairs that were in his eyes. "You've distracted me too much. It's time I put my foot down."_

_Blaise continued smirking, brushing his hand along Draco's. "C'mon, Dray-"_

"Don't _call me 'Dray'."_

 _Blaise stopped stroking his thumb over his wrist. "Fine._ Draco, _would you stop being such a prude and come to the party? Not everyone hates you as much as you think."_

_Draco stopped smiling. "No." It was a simple answer that should be easy to comprehend, and Draco believed that Blaise was smart enough to know what it meant._

_Obviously he took the 'For Dummies' books for a reason; he couldn't take the words to the head like he would with a bad brownie. He swiftly took hold of Draco's wrist more firmly, laughing now. "Wow," he lightheartedly said. Draco smiled along, even though he didn't feel any joy._

_"Please? I'll never leave your side. I'll make sure you're safe."_

_Draco solemnly pressed his lips together, but kept his eyes bright. "Blaise, no. You've asked several times and I-"_

_Blaise took his index finger and propped it against Draco's lips. "Sh," he dragged out. "Relax, Draco. Just come with me." Blaise gave him a pleading look--something that shouldn't have looked as nice on his face as it was. His dark hair was being combed by his other hand. His fingers raked through his hair restlessly. "Please? You never want to go out with Pansy and I anymore." Draco twisted his nose._

_"Pansy's going?"_

_Blaise nodded._

_"Right. Of course she is."_

_They went quiet for a moment._

_"Please."_

_Draco considered this. Blaise had promised to stay by his side, and he had nothing to lose..._

_Besides, he needed to get out more. Plus, he kind of missed Pansy._

_"Um..."_

_He wondered who would be there._

_"... why not?"_

* * *

Draco had a dream, it was some stupid remembrance of what he had. Or to say, _didn't_ have.

It was about a party he attended, er, not so long ago. Pansy's hair had been cut right before her shoulders, as she stated she needed something new to work with. She could no longer be affiliated with her past appearances. She had an internal change, so why not an external change? Especially after the war.

Blaise was there, too. His dark skin was covered in perspiration, sweat under his hair. His breath was reeking of alcohol--was that whiskey?--and he started getting... handsy.

His dreams were rather cruel. Very vivid as if he were reliving it in the moment. And so  _very_ detailed. The things he thought he would never see again was there. He inwardly shuddered at the thought.

He hadn't realized that he had dozed off into the land of Z's until he heard Madam Pomfrey shake him awake. He woke up with one eye loose, and decided that he would ask her what was the deal. Why couldn't he be cleared yet?

"Mister Malfoy," her small voice said. "Wake up." She tapped his shoulder for a few seconds.

"I'm awake Madam Pomfrey," he murmured. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. It was probably the afternoon, right before the students of Hogwarts got out of class.

She pursed her lips together. "I'm going to clear you tonight Mister Malfoy," she stated, slowly, "and I suppose you don't really know what happened. Do you have any questions before I do?" 

"Um," he said. His mind was foggy; he had just woken up from his nap. "Yes, I do, actually. Why couldn't I be cleared, er, earlier?" Madam Pomfrey had a thinking look within her eyes.

"I suppose your condition had me on my toes, and I wanted to make sure you would be alright."

Draco nodded, trying to process it with the slow brain he currently had. The state his mind was in because of his, er, bad but not so bad dream had his thoughts in a twist, so trying to register everything in so little time had him have a double take.

"What conditions would you say? It couldn't have been that bad. I've been hit with a Stinging Hex before. It wasn't at all this bad before, was it?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded her head. "Never this bad, indeed. Fatigue, memory loss as it seems, difficulty breathing, excessive sleeping, and poor appetite. Whoever hit you must've been practicing. Self-invented spells that are affiliated with already known hexes are normally people who are..."

Draco nodded. He didn't really have the... thought of how bad he was hit. Surely, though, it couldn't have been that bad. He wasn't having any headaches, and nothing was bleeding. He should've been cleared ages ago. Draco rubbed his shoulder in thought. "Madam Pomfrey?" he asked. "How long has it been?" 

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips together. "I'd say around a few days. You're conscious has been, to say it lightly, jumping in and out of dreamland." She leaned forward, as if trying to study Draco.

He laid still, stunned. Okay, so  _maybe_ it was as bad as he thought. "To be precise?" he choked out.

"Two and a half days."

Draco nodded slowly. "Yeah, um, alright then."

He pulled up the covers to his shoulders. 

 _How wonderful,_ he thought sarcastically.  _How wonderfully straightforward._

Madam Pomfrey shook her head in dismay, too. "I'll check your vitals in a few minutes. Then we're going to have a talk about who did it."

He swallowed. "Who did what?"

"Who hexed you of course!"

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course.  _How wonderful,_  he thought, annoyed, again.  _How wonderfully straightforward._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this was very rushed i am sorry
> 
> i realize that now...

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god - that was painful to write  
> just trying to get back into the swing of writing regularly  
> so please mind the mistakes I make - and telling me what they are  
> so I can change them asap! 
> 
> updates will be weekly, if what I plan out to do goes well :)


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